


A Light in the Snow

by blackholehuman



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: I love these fools, Im not trying to spoil this but..., Kid Fic, M/M, Minor OC - Freeform, Neiva Natasha Pitch, and they have lots of love in their hearts, so i wanted to spread that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 21:15:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12262227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackholehuman/pseuds/blackholehuman
Summary: They do this every year on their anniversary: a mini vacation, of sorts, in the clearing where everything should have ended, but instead began.This year, time seems to stop. And their lives begin again.





	A Light in the Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I've been needing to get this story off my chest for about two months now. It's been eating away at me. So here you go; I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> And before you say, "Hey blackholehuman, remember that WIP Drarry fic you have going on?" or hound me for the reasons I haven't been updating: keep your eyes out. The next chapter will be up by the end of the week.

**SIMON**

When people tell you that they could feel something was off about a some sort of situation, they're lying. It's bullshit. Because Baz and I felt perfectly fine as we entered the forest.

Well, as fine as we could, returning to the place where everything changed.

We do this every year on our anniversary: camping out in the clearing where Baz started a fire then promptly put it back out as soon as I kissed him. I kiss him now, too, my lips practically tackling his cheek. He smiles like I'm stupid.

“Cut it out Snow,” he says, “you'll make me drop everything.” (I made him carry all the equipment while all I have are the pillows.) (I mean, come on, he _does_ have super strength!)

“Stop complaining,” I retort, “I know you love it.”

He stoops down to kiss my forehead, forcefully enough to make me stumble. All of the gear is still perfectly balanced in his arms. It's those damn supernatural reflexes. “I do,” Baz agrees. “But two can play at that game.”

We reach the clearing just then. Baz sighs as he drops all of our stuff into the snow. Before I can protest, he points to himself and says, “Mage, remember?” I harrumph in response. There's nothing to do while Baz casts his spells, so I go on a walk, just to survey the area a bit and keep myself busy.

It's been four years since my magic’s been gone, but the holes have just started to close. I haven't felt anything yet, not that I really expected to. If anything I’ve gotten used to being Normal again, and as long as it doesn't bother Penny or Baz, I don't really have to think about it. And how Normal can I be, really, with a dragon’s tail and wings? (Penny was gracious enough to spell them away for me on this special night, but Baz will probably call them back. He likes the tail, especially; it tends to wrap around him whenever we- well.)

I can't deny, however, that things are starting to change. Penny is about to graduate from uni (as is Baz) and she's starting to seriously consider when she’ll be moving away to America. And where they'll go. _That's_ something I try not to think about, because I'll miss her terribly when she does go. Even if I knew this was coming. Part of me wants to follow her there- we've never been apart, really, ever since we met- but that would have to be over Baz’s dead body (which is technically also his alive body, which is terrifying enough to stay. But also, I love him.) I know he's going to ask me to move in with him, and I know he’s looking for a new place to live. He wants to be near Watford, I think, but he’s very clandestine about his computer history.

I _know_ he’s going to propose to me though, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to do it tonight. There’s no better time or place; our anniversary, in the place where everything began.

I woke up to him last month in the middle of the night singing Beyonce lyrics. I was so intrigued that I pretended to be asleep- and then the spell ended, and I felt Baz’s fingers bring my left hand up towards him. He kissed my knuckles and held his breath as he slipped something cold onto my ring finger. It fit perfectly, and even though I couldn’t see him, I knew he was smiling. Baz then replaced my hand and proceeded to “wake me up” with a series of long, hard kisses.

“What’s this all about?” I asked when I was properly awake and covered in hickeys, pretending I didn’t already know. My heart thumped loudly in my chest.

“You, Simon,” he panted, grabbing my waist and swinging a leg over to straddle me. “Always you.”

I stopped thinking right about then.

But I didn’t forget- it’s always in the back of my mind. And I can see it in his face everytime he smiles at me, because he thinks he’s being sneaky. After four years of loving him, his plotting has been more and more easy to figure out. I mean, Beyonce. _Really._

My train of thought is abruptly derailed as I trip over a thick tree root I hadn’t seen under all the snow. I faceplant, barely getting my hands up fast enough to slow my fall. I grunt in frustration, turning around to face the culprit of my humiliation.

That’s when I see her. She’s at the base of the huge tree I just fell over, bundled up in a starry blue blanket.

I crawl over to get closer and verify that she isn’t just a doll, but _Christ and Merlin_ , it's an actual human child. A little baby girl, left out in the cold like this.

I yell out in rage. I can feel my entire chest tightening as I pick her up, because she doesn’t move, and her face is almost the same color as the blanket. The green cap she’s wearing seems to be frozen to her head.

I yell again, this time for Baz; he finds me moments later. Fucking superspeed.

He turns white when he sees the bundle in my hands and kneels down next to me, snow be damned.

“She’s gone,” I choke out, not realizing I’d been crying.

“Not yet,” Baz says softly, holding his arms out. I let him take the girl away. I’m shaking uncontrollably. “She still has a heartbeat.” Baz lifts her up and presses his ear to the general area of the baby’s chest. “Though not for long,” he whispers, barely audible.

“ _Why_?” I yell out. Why would anyone do this? To leave a baby to the elements like this. To die all alone. Who the fuck abandons a child in the first place-

I realize why this means so much to me. I realize I will do whatever it takes to make sure this baby girl lives to see tomorrow.

“We have to help her,” I say, all business, facing Baz.

“Simon, there aren’t any spells for this,” he says, and it’s so strained it tugs at my soul. “We could make her warm again but it would never be enough.”

We both fall into the most sullen silence to ever plague mankind. I can hear the seconds ticking by on some imaginary watch, counting down the moments the girl has to live. Our lack of action is making my twitch, and my mind is reeling, because what are we supposed to do with a _dead body_ anyway-

Wait.

Baz’s head snaps up as soon as I open my mouth to speak. “ _No_ ,” he says, loudly and firmly.

“It’s the only way to save her!”

“You think turning her into a _monster_ is going to save her?” he yells at me, standing up. He’s still holding the baby to his chest.

“You are no monster, Baz,” I tell him. “Not if you save her life.”

He growls at me. “We have no obligation to save her, Snow.”

The reason this is so ironic is because he’s clutching at her so tightly. I stand up and move into Baz’s space, staring hard into his eyes. There’s anger, sure, I expected this, but there's also fear. Like he doesn’t know the difference between good and evil. Luckily for the both of us, I have a pretty damn good idea of what’s good.

“So what,” I say quietly, letting my features go soft, “We’re just going to leave her here to die alone?”

It’s working. His jaw clenches. I continue, “Because I know what it feels like to be abandoned.”

He swallows.

“And I think you know what it’s like to be alone.”

I move closer to him and reach out a hand. He lowers the girl so that we’re both looking into her little face. “She’s beautiful,” I whisper, and it’s true, even if the only color she’s got is the blue frost on her face and the dark curls poking out of her little beanie.

I turn my head to look at Baz, who’s transfixed by the bundle in his hands- I can see him sizing her up with his fingers, clenching and unclenching around the tiny body.

He’s still looking at her when I say, “You feel it too, right? Like we’re looking into our future.”

Baz’s eyes slide towards mine, and they’re soft and relenting but he still says, “I can’t.”

“You have to,” I don’t know what we’ll do if he doesn’t. I’m so helpless in this situation, and all I can do is hope. “ _Please_.”

A tear slides down his cheek as he turns his back to me. “Don’t watch,” he manages to say. He sits back down, and I scoot over to press my face into his back. My fists hold onto his jacket as if I, too, were clinging to life. I feel Baz’s back straighten (he must be sitting up), but nothing happens other than that. Everything is still and quiet and it seems that the trees are also holding their breath.

Then, she starts to cry.

 

**BAZ**

 

I break the the promise I’ve always kept for myself because of a dream. Something akin to falling in love with Simon Snow and hoping for something in return. Something that would make me think, _only fools could hope like this._

But Simon Snow loves me, so maybe the dream isn’t such a folly: righting the wrongs that had been done unto us. Being good parents to children who had none, like Simon, and raising them to be brave and accepting, like my parents weren’t.

The baby’s skin is frigid and her blood is ice; it leaves her blessedly tasteless. The feel contrasts with the warmth that Simon is- somehow- radiating into my body. I pull back after about twenty seconds of not moving.

Nothing happens at first. She lays in my hands, unmoving and unresponsive to my touch.

Suddenly, she starts to cry.

Before I can even react, Simon throws his arms around my neck and kisses my ear from behind. I pull away smiling (even through tears), trying to hush the child back to sleep. She’s squirming a lot, but the blanket’s as stiff as a board from being exposed to the cold for too long. I pull out my want to cast, but I look up to see that Simon has already removed his sweatshirt. He surprises me when he thinks ahead like this; he’s not really as oblivious as I like to think he is.

“Give her here,” he says, extending his arms out to me with his jacket draped across both of his hands. I deftly unwrap the crusted blanket and hand her over. I’m horrified that she’s got nothing but a diaper on as clothes- it fills me with rage, actually. Like I’ll gladly kill whoever did this to her with my bare hands. I look up to see my own horror reflected as a deep sadness on Simon’s face. She’s still crying as I hand her over.

Once she’s all bundled inside the jacket, I pull out and cast, “ ** _Cold hands, warm heart_ ,**” a heating spell that only works if you’ve got genuine love inside your heart, and Simon and I are both overflowing with it. I can tell that the heat from the spell extends to more than just the girl in Simon’s arms; the snow melts in front of us, paving a way directly to the car.

We both jump in eagerly, still grinning like idiots. I look to my right, and Simon’s all buckled up and has braced his arms protectively around the (now sleeping) form of the baby girl.

We leave all of our stuff behind. It’s in the past, now. And we’ve just picked up our future.

 

**SIMON**

The tiny girl stops crying as soon as Baz puts the car in motion. He keeps turning to cast warming and healing spells until I have to tell him to relax, or he’ll be keeling over by the time we get to London.

“ _This_ isn't wasted magic, Snow,” he grunts, but in the end complies.

Even though she's stopped crying, she continues to fuss and move about in my jacket. Her small beanie is thawed out enough by now to take off, so I do: and almost instantly began worrying again.

“Baz?” I ask, holding her up, “this didn't happen to you, did it?”

I'm referencing, of course, that her hair on the left side is turning white.

“No,” he rolls his eyes and looks back at the road, “obviously.”

“Should we be worried?”

Which seems like a stupid question, because of course we should be worried. I don't know the first thing about taking care of babies, much less a vampire baby, although I guess Baz can help out in that respect. And he does have four younger siblings.

“I don't… I don't think so,” he says, glancing over at us. “Besides, it seems to have stopped. Looks kind of like Fiona’s hair, doesn't it?”

“This streak is a lot bigger than hers,” I point out. “...Maybe this is where all the cold went.”

“I doubt it,” Baz replies, but he doesn't sound so sure.

Right then, she opens her eyes clearly for the first time. “Merlin!” I yell, jumping a bit. Baz pulls over. “There's no need for that,” I tell him, but he just gives me a look that says _well maybe you shouldn't have leapt out of your seat_. He reaches for her and looks into her eyes as soon as he's got her in his hands.

“Crowley.”

One of her two blue eyes is turning silver. The left one, same side as her hair.

“What…?”

“I don't know,” Baz shakes his head and hands her back to me. “I don't know.”

He puts the car back in drive, and we’re speeding home. After an hour or so, the girl finally falls asleep, tucked between my elbow and chest.

“She’ll be asleep for a while,” Baz says, not looking at me.

“Were you?”

He nods. And still won't look at me.

“Baz,” I reach the arm I'm not using over to touch his shoulder. “We did the right thing. _You_ did the right thing.”

“What will my father say?” He whispers.

I don't want to think about that right now. “I actually think we have more important things to worry about,” I say.

“Like the Humdrum?” He asks, a small smile playing on his lips.

My hand slides down his shoulder to his bicep. I squeeze. And smile.

“Like, what are we going to name her?”

**BAZ**

Its no surprise that Simon is shit at names.

We’ve been driving around London for two hours, shopping for baby clothes and other such things we’ll need, and he has yet to come up with anything approaching sensible. On top of that, I’m knackered from driving and exhausted from the energy it takes to not drain every living thing I put my eyes on. There’s blood at home, I know this, but there's more in the streets of London. I try to pull a Simon Snow and stop thinking altogether, but he keeps interrupting with terrible names.  

While we’re in Tesco’s getting nappies and onesies, he suggests Cherry.  

“You’re just hungry,” I counter. “And besides, we are _not_ naming her after your favorite food.”

“Why not?” He says, smiling down at her. “It’s kind of cute.”

“It’s ridiculous.”

“Well at least I'm trying,” he pouts. “You aren’t even bothering to participate.”

At this point, we’ve moved on to foods. I’ve already used a spell to determine her age; a mere six months. She was born on the summer solstice. As I pick up each tiny jar, surveying them based off what will most likely return her to proper health, I say, “Clementine.”

I don’t have to turn around to know he’s cringing. He doesn’t have to see my face to know I’m smirking, either. Snow’s not the biggest fan of citrus fruits.

“Not everything is _Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind_ ,” he groans. That’s another thing he doesn’t like: thought provoking cinema.

After checking off all the essentials off our list (including a crib, some onesies, nappies, a whole month’s worth of baby food and a starry baby mobile that Simon couldn’t resist) we move on to clothes, but I’ll be damned if we don’t get clothes fit for princess Charlotte. I just- I want to spoil her. She deserves to have the best, after the state we found her in. So I take us to a high-end boutique.

“She’ll grow out of this stuff in a few months,” Simon complains, “And it's all so expensive. Why don’t we go back to Tesco’s?”

“One, there were too many people there, and it was driving me mad,” I say, and pretend not to notice that he winces, “And two, I’m paying, and I’ll do whatever I like with my money, thank you.”

“Fine. What about Oak? Like the tree we found her by.”

“No.”

“Blue?

“ _Gods_ no.” I wonder if he says it because I’m holding up a navy button up coat that looks soft and warm and is expensive as fuck. I decide we need it almost immediately.

As I’m folding it over my arm, Simon asks, “Natasha?”

I still. I can feel his eyes on me. I turn around and go back to find some cashmere jumpers. Snow follows, tripping on the carpet because he’s not paying attention.

He invades my personal space as soon as we stop, standing as close to me as he can while holding the sleeping child. He smells like cinnamon, and she smells like the forest. I look away, swallowing.

“My mother hated vampires,” I say to the cashmere sweaters. Simon shifts behind me, hoisting her up to rest her head on his shoulder and reaches for me with his free hand. I want to move away, but I never could from him. I feel his fingers intertwining with mine, and he tugs me closer so that it’s impossible not to look at him.

He takes my breath away, even now. The baby he’s holding doesn’t help.

Snow squeezes my hand. “She came back for you,” he whispers. I look down. The image is so intense. Like staring directly into the sun, even now. The light of my very own universe.

He takes advantage of my reduced height to kiss me on the temple, right where my mother would have had I been there that night. Simon does this sometimes, when I miss her. The first time he did I went out to buy an engagement ring the very same day.

That was in August, three years ago. The whole ordeal was quite exciting, if a bit presumptuous, but at least I recognized it. Simon and and I couldn’t _really_ get married at nineteen, no matter what some of my fifth-year fantasies said. I was going to propose tonight, but we were rudely interrupted by our future, to quote Simon.

I look back up. “Maybe as a middle name?”

Snow grins at me, and if he’s the sun, the baby he’s holding has just become all of my stars.

**SIMON**

It’s dinner by the time we get back to my flat, but Penny isn’t home, so Baz decides to teach me how to change a nappy on the floor next to the couch. I’m not really paying attention; I’m still trying to think of names, because so far, Baz hasn’t liked any of mine and his suggestions have only been to tease me.

For example, when I suggested Penny and he responded with, “I rather like Agatha.”

“Don’t ever use those words in that order again,” I warned him.

I’m also not paying attention because he’s being so gentle, like this baby is made of glass. It’s the same way he handles me when we’re being soft with each other, and I instantly recognize it as love.

“What about Snow?”

“That’s got to be the worst one yet.”

“Hey now, _my_ name’s Snow,” I argue.

“Yes, and I’m trying to change that too, aren’t I?” he says, finishing with the nappy. Then looks up, horrified. “Wait, that wasn’t-”

“Oh yes it was,” I say, practically tackling him to the ground.

“Be careful,” he says, trying to scoot out from underneath me, “the baby.”

“ _Our daughter,_ ” I correct him. He stops trying to escape.

“Our daughter?” Baz says it like he’s trying out a new spell. It sounds so lovely on his lips that I kiss him.

“Yes,” I say, when I remember I have to breathe every now and again.

“Wait, yes to our daughter or yes to-”

“ _Yes_ ,” I repeat, pushing him down again, this time fully straddling his hips. “Yes.” I kiss his neck.

“Crowley, Simon,” he’s breathless, and aroused, and I’m pretty sure he’s also holding back tears. “Not near the baby.”

“She’s asleep,” I argue.

“Then let’s get her to bed.”

“I’m sick of her not having a name,” I say, rolling off of him and careful not to wake her.

We lay there in silence for a moment, Baz stroking the back of my hand with his thumb with his head turned towards the girl. He intertwines his index finger so that she’s holding it in her little fist.

“What about Neiva?” he asks. “It’s the feminine form of snow in Spanish.”

“Neiva,” I repeat, trying it out.

“Neiva Natasha.”

“Pitch.”

“Yes,” Baz moves his head to smile at me instead.

**PENNY**

I spent the night at my parent’s house last night because it’s almost Christmas and Simon and Baz were out doing their anniversary camping. Weirdly enough, the lack of their annoying flirting made me feel anxious and lonely, so I ended up Skyping Micah for hours, talking about our future.

I’m moving to America soon. Everyone knows it. I’m worried for Simon, who gets sad every time I bring up Micah, as if he’s going to lose me to him. But he’s my best friend, and I’m not going to forget that just because I’m moving across the pond. I’m grateful that he’s dating someone rational like Baz to remind him of that every so often.

He’ll get over it eventually. I happen to know Baz was going to propose to him last night; it’s like all of our futures are happening at once. And I also have a strong feeling they’re going to want to have a family of their own even if it means they have to adopt and Baz has to stop being afraid of himself. Simon would love to adopt, I’m sure of it, and Baz would want his kids to be brave.

I don’t expect them to be home yet, but as I’m opening the door, I hear voices. I wonder if their camping trip didn’t go well. What if they fought? Would Baz still have proposed? Merlin and Morgana- what if Simon said no?

I definitely don’t expect to walk into the dining room and see a baby in a high chair, smooshing mushed-up orange food into Simon’s face while Baz laughs and takes photos.

I’m pretty sure my jaw drops to the floor the same time my bag does. Both Simon and Baz freeze, looking at me guiltily. The baby doesn’t seem to notice and procedes to reach for Baz, hands covered in goo.

Baz clears his throat. “If you’ll excuse me Bunce,” he says, picking up the girl and bringing her round to the kitchen sink. As he helps her wash her hands, I turn my look of surprise towards Simon, too shocked to demand an explanation. He shrugs and gives me a sheepish grin.

“Hi Penny,” he greets, then stands up to take the girl back from Baz. “This is Neiva Natasha.”

“Our daughter,” Baz adds, and there's a bit of pride in his voice.

I walk towards Simon tentatively. The baby- Neiva- reaches up for me. I let one of her hands curl around my index finger. She gurgles, an her eyes get smaller when she smiles. I can’t help but smile back. Neiva’s beautiful- she’s got heterochromia, one silver eye and one blue, a shock of curly black hair that’s been half replaced by a strange white streak. The only weird thing is how cold her skin is.

“Is it chilly in here?” I ask, “Or is it just her?”

“It’s just Neiva,” Simon responds, then looks towards Baz, who is pointedly looking out the window with his and folded over his chest like he’s hugging himself.

“Well, her and Baz,” Simon amends.

I jerk my hand away, immediately understanding what he means. Neiva starts to cry. Simon begins to try and hush her, bouncing her up and down in his arms. “Penny,” he hisses.

“You’ve _Turned_ her!” I yell, but I don’t know at who.

“I told you she wouldn’t take it well,” Baz mutters.

**BAZ**

“How could you?” she demands, her voice at a yell. “Baz, how _could_ you? After you promised Simon and I and _yourself_ you would never bite a living human being!”

I’m still very much not looking at her. I can tell she’s near me, probably gesturing wildly, angrily.

I want to tell her that I didn’t know how I could. That I woke up screaming from a dream where I sucked her dry. And how I wonder that if our daughter is a vampire, and we turn out to be immortal, we’ll have to bury Simon together; I would never be able to handle it. That I didn’t want to lose Simon over a decision where our moralities diverged completely. That I thought it was my only chance at a family.

“You _monster!_ ” she screams.

I don’t know what I expected. Bunce tolerates me because she’s a decent person, but how could I forget that spreading this… this _disease_ is strictly against the rules? And worse; this is a child we’re talking about, a picture of innocence. What could be worse than altering a child magically before they even have the ability to choose? That’s the same way Simon lived until recently: born with infinite magic no one could have any hope of controlling.  What if all I’ve done is given Neiva the same burden I’ve had to carry around since I was four? That’s not saving her life, that’s ensuring she’ll live in pain.

“Reign it in Penny,” Simon yells, jumping between us. No- he didn’t jump. He fucking _flew_. Those dragon wings of his are actually working, and one of them moves to protect his torso, where Neiva is still in his arms, crying. “She was dead when we found her. He’s kept his promise.” He backs up near to me, and I can feel the tail curling around my arm possessively.

I allow myself to peak at Penelope. She seems to relax, but her features are twisted in confusion. “Found her…?”

“She was abandoned in the snow where we were camping,” I whisper, finally looking into her eyes. “She almost didn’t have a heartbeat.”

Bunce’s eyes soften. “ _Neiva_ ,” she whispers. And looks right back at me, full of remorse. “Spanish for snow.”

“Besides, it was me who convinced him to do it,” Simon adds. “We couldn’t just leave her, Penny. Can you imagine?”

“I get it,” she says, and blushes. Maybe she’s ashamed. “Gods, Baz, I’m so sorry-”

I stop her with a hand. I’ve already forgiven her. I can’t blame Penny for attempting rational morality.  “It’s alright, Penelope. I understand. I guess it was good practice for whatever my parents will think…”

Her eyes go wide. “I didn’t even consider that.”

I turn to Simon, opening my arms to Neiva who is still crying. She settles down as soon as her head hits my shoulder. His tail unwinds, but he doesn’t look at all appeased by Penny’s apology.

“I can’t believe,” Penny starts again, a small smile playing on her lips, “that I left you two alone for less than twenty four hours, and you brought home a baby.”

I snort, heading for the couch. A quick glance over my shoulder shows me that Snow is still staring daggers at the back of Penny’s head, even though she doesn’t notice as she follows to sit beside me on the couch.

“Can I… hold her?” she asks tentatively.

I don’t even hesitate to bring Neiva down from my shoulder, but Simon is quick to intercept.

“Like hell,” he growls at Penny.

I frown. “Snow, what-”

“You don’t get to come in here,” he says, raising his voice, “and insult my family, calling my fiance a fucking monster-”

“Fiance?”

“Implying that my daughter,” he continues, speaking louder and completely ignoring Penny’s question, “ _Our_ daughter is some kind freak of nature. What the actual _fuck_ , Penny! If we didn’t contractually own this place together, I would tell you to **_Get out!_ ** ”

Both Penny and I are speechless. She’s tense beside me, and there are tears welling up in her eyes. And there’s something about the way Simon said it, like there was magic attached, but not really going anywhere…

“And to think, we were going to ask you to be her godmother,” he sneers, and now his wings completely envelop his body. He turns to me. “Baz, we’re leaving.”

My frown deepens. “Simon…”

“ _Now,_ ” he growls, and I don’t want to argue with him. Something about the sudden change of smell in the room makes me feel incredibly odd. It’s not the burning green that used to be accompanied with his presence, but more like the smell after the rain. Like the wind is picking it up and spreading it everywhere- I can almost _feel_ it, I think.

He doesn’t move from where he’s standing, but Penny gets up to actually help me pack. We’re just finishing shrinking Neiva’s crib when she turns to me, still crying, and apologizes again.

“You know I didn’t mean- I could _never_ mean-that, that-”

“Pen, relax,” I put my hand on her shoulder. “I’ve already forgiven you. Simon’s just upset, yeah? We have to give him time to cool off.”

“Yeah.” Another sad smile; she’s full of them today. “Just like old times.”

“Well,” I admonish, turning my head a bit as I pack the shrunken furniture and folded clothes into a bag, “Not exactly.”

I can hear her smirk. “True,” she says, and her tone is playfully light, “You never would have proposed to him back then.”

I roll my eyes and zip up the bag. I turn around and place it on my lap. Penny’s sitting on Simon’s bed, smiling down at me. I bury my face into the bag, hugging it close, and Penny laughs at me some more.

“Was it romantic?”

“It was an _accident_ ,” I correct. “I had everything planned, but I’d been thinking about it so much it just sort of… slipped out.”

“That wouldn’t be the first time,” she laughs again.

I look up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh Basilton,” she says, wiping a tear away from her eye, “You told me all about how you were going to marry him about three years ago on New Year’s. You were very drunk, you see- you’ve got this weakness for red wine, I swear- and Simon was already passed out on your lap.” She grins wide. “You carried him to bed and showed me the ring. You were _so_ proud.”

“ _Crowley_ ,” I curse. “I don’t remember that at all.”

“No, I didn’t think you would,” she muses. “It wasn’t the most secretive of demonstrations, either. You were being quite loud.”

“Thank Merlin he wasn’t awake,” is all I can say. “The surprise would have been completely ruined. And I’ll have you know I sized that ring without him knowing about it.”

“ _Baz_ ,” she teases, exasperated, “You’re not very good at sneaking around.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

Penny throws her head back and laughs. “You woke him up that night, he told me! I mean, Single Ladies, Baz? _Really_?”

“Oh gods,” I groan, hiding my blush once again in the backpack.

**SIMON**

Fiona’s in town this week, so there’s no chance that we can go back to her flat with a vampire baby in tow. God knows Penny ruined my entire mood on telling anyone about our new family.

Baz seems to be totally okay with the whole thing- which, really, I should be happy about. The fact that he’s finally come to terms with who he is- well, it’s pretty fucking monumental, considering the reason we’re together is because he tried to kill himself over it years ago. He’s okay with being called a monster, he’s accepted Penny’s apology, but I can’t get over it. She wasn’t just insulting him, she was insulting my family. I’m so angry I almost feel magic again;  however, instead of pouring out of me in a thick heat like it used to, it feels more like there’s a heavy wind deep inside my chest, pushing rain clouds to the surface.

There’s no way it’s actually magic, of course.  Just as Baz has come to terms with his vampirism, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ll be as Normal as they come (plus a few magickal appendages.)

Anyway, Baz doesn’t try to argue with me about leaving, thank fuck. I don’t want to start an argument in front of Neiva.

Baz spells my wings invisible with a quick, “ **_These aren’t the droids you’re looking for_ ** ” and  checks us into a ritzy hotel despite my protests (“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it _right_ , Snow.”)

He sets up the crib and unpacks everything else for us when we get in- I haven’t let go of Neiva since we left the flat. Once he’s finished, I put her down to sleep tenderly. Baz casts a few silencing spells, probably anticipating some sort of drawn out argument.

I can feel the soft press of Baz’s hand on my back. God, I love him so much when he’s tender like this- even when all I can feel is aggression.

“She’s so beautiful,” I say furiously, “How could anyone call her a monster?”

I turn to Baz and lift both of my hands to his face. “The same can be said of you,” I whisper, and kiss him.

“Simon,” Baz manages, “I am not beautiful.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I snap, and it comes out a lot more harsh than I mean it to, so I shove him towards the bed until it hits his legs and he’s forced to sit on the edge.

As I come closer, he scoots back, until he’s lying completely flat and I’m crawling over him, like a predator and his prey.  One of his hands is laying palm up near his head, and I pin it down with my own, interlocking our fingers.

Baz looks up at me, defiant, honest, and above all, fucking beautiful. I lean down so that our noses touch and he’s forced to look in my eyes.

“ _No one_ talks shit about my family.”

I kiss him so hard our teeth clash. When I lift up again, Baz grabs his wand out of his jeans pocket and un-spells my wings and tail, then sets the wand aside on the nightstand.

“ _No one_.” I repeat, undoing his shirt buttons and trousers through all sorts of kisses. Once those are both off, my tail loops beginning at his ankle and ending at his upper thigh.

I’m starting to undress myself when my tail squeezes his leg and brings it to wrap around my waist. He moans filthily as his hips buck up in response. Shucking my shirt and jeans across the room, I lean forward over him to whisper, “You are mine.”

“Yes,” he’s nodding. “Yours.”

I kiss him again. “You are not a monster, Baz. You’re mine.”

He moans, arching into me. “Your tail,” he pants. It’s squeezing at his thigh again, pulling him even closer to me, and we don’t even have all of our clothes off yet.  “Aleister Crowley, Simon. The things you do to me.”

Moving to his ears, I tell him that he’s perfect.

As I’m ravaging his neck, Baz asks, “You don’t think I’m… bad?”

I growl into his throat, then nibble at it. “No.” My voice is hoarse. “Never. You’re just Baz.”

His fingers slip through my hair, pulling my mouth back to his own. “As long as you say so, Simon,” another kiss, “as long as you- and Neiva, now, _believe_ it, nothing else really matters. No one can ruin this for me.”

~~~~~

It’s easy to make up with Penny because she’s so damn sincere. Also because she’s been my best friend for ages, and I can’t just ditch her for one mistake. I let out all my anger that night, and Baz helped so much, just… moving with me. Speaking to me in a soothing voice.

Penny’s thrilled to be Neiva’s godmother, and when I watched how loving she was, I realized I really could trust her with my daughter’s precious life.

But now, we have to face the real challenge. Baz’s family.

We were invited to their home in Oxford for Christmas Eve, and we had already accepted their invitation, so we kind of just had to pack our things and go along with it.

Of course we’re both nervous. Baz actually looks as if he might be sick, and Baz _never_ gets sick. He even let me drive while he rode in the back with Neiva; singing her to sleep. It was lovely, and there was a point where he had to yell at me to stop watching them in the mirror and watch the road instead.

When we get there, he takes his time getting out of the car, carefully folding Neiva’s blanket and throwing it over his shoulder. Still fucking posh as ever. The car seat comes out without much fuss this time, thank God, I nearly chucked the thing in the Thames last time I tried to figure it out, and we make our way to the door.

I glance at Baz, who’s face is a carefully stony mask. I hate it when he does this, even though I know it’s necessary when he has to deal with his dad.

“Baz,” I lean into him without taking my eyes off the door, “What are we going to say?”

His eyes slide towards me, and then he startles at something over my shoulder. Placing the car seat on the front step, he slides his wand out of his sleeve and taps on my wings.

“ ** _These aren’t the droids you’re looking for_** **,** ” he says, then repeats when he taps on my tail.

I roll my eyes. Stupid formalities. “ _Baz_.”

A smile is pulling at the corners of his mouth when he picks up Neiva’s car seat once more. “I’ll guess we’ll just have to _wing it_.”

I groan, but before I’m able to tell Baz that just because he’s a dad know doesn’t mean he can go around making terrible puns, the door swings open. Thankfully, it’s just Mordelia, who at twelve is just as snarky as her older brother was at that age. I love her to death, but everytime I’m here there’s always alarm bells going off in my mind, saying: _oh shit, there’s_ two _of them._

She stands there in shock, trying to take in the vision before her: a gurgling child in a car seat being carried by Baz, and my left hand clenched into a fist, accidentally showing off a silver band studded in the middle with a single diamond.

Mordelia blinks a couple times before raising an eyebrow at Baz. “Does this make me an auntie?” she smirks.

“Only if you invite us in,” Baz says pointedly.

She gets it right away, I can practically see it cross her face, but she makes no comment. “Of course. All three of you are welcome here anytime.” Mordelia holds the door open wider, then steps aside.

As soon as we’re in, I close the door and Mordelia takes off running. “Mum!” I hear her shout down the hall. “Baz and Simon are here! They’ve brought a _baby_!”

Baz gazes after her, seemingly rooted to the spot. I kneel down and unbuckle Neiva. “Are you ready?” I ask him, standing up and resting Neva on my hip between us.

He turns his face towards me and I’ve never seen him with such an unfiltered look of fear before, so it’s painfully obvious how not ready he is.

“Come on.”

The hall is lit with gorgeous yellow lights, floating by magic right alongside bright red poinsettias and holly branches. “Those aren’t for you,” I say, when Neiva tries to lunge out of my arms after them. To reconcile, she twists and lunges for Baz’s hair instead, landing a little fist in his long black hair (which he at least didn’t slick back, as per my request.)

That’s how we come upon Baz’s family in the sitting room: Neiva and Baz both laughing as her hands get more and more tangled in his hair. I’m smiling and holding her back, because I love his hair and I wouldn’t want her to get more carried away.

The room goes eerily silent.

Baz undoes Neiva’s hands from his hair and clears his throat. “We’ve adopted,” he adresses Daphne and Malcolm, who are sitting on a white couch across the room with glasses of wine paused halfway to their mouths. Both wearing the same frown of confusion.

“And we’re engaged,” I say, holding up my free hand, showing off the ring. I’m rather fond of it, actually.

 _That_ startles the room back to motion- Fiona, who I hadn’t even seen, sitting in a corner yells, “ _Finally_! Basilton, you’ve had that ring for ages!”

Before I have time to think about that, Malcolm’s glass slips from his hand and spills all over the pristine couch.

“I’ll get it!” Mordelia yells excitedly, pulling out her wand from a pocket in her dress.

Daphne deters her by sending her to the room, announcing that it’s time for the grown ups to talk. Fiona’s blocking me from their expressions, however, trying to get a good look at Neiva. “She’s got wicked hair,” she grins, winking at me and gesturing at her own silver streak. “And, by Morgana- she’s got both of your eyes!” She laughs a little and places her hand on Baz’s shoulder. “She’s adorable, kid. Really.”

“Thank you,” Baz whispers, and it’s obvious he didn’t expect this reaction from her. My eyes begin to burn a little bit. Maybe this won’t be that bad.

“Can I hold her?”

It’s Malcolm who says it, standing up from his seat which has been spelled clean by Daphne. I glance quickly at Baz, whose eyebrows are just beginning to knit together in a confused look.

He pulls his wand out, making me frown. “Let me hold her.”

And it’s the way he says it, like he’s entitled to it, that makes me take a step back. Baz looks at him curiously.

“Father, what’s wrong?”

Malcolm grabs Baz by his shirtsleeve and lights the tip of his wand on fire. “Mr Snow,” Baz tries to pull away but Malcolm just brings the fire closer. “Let me hold her.”

I think I know what he’s trying to do, even if his face is a mask of controlled features. It’s written all over the fear in Baz’s face, and the shock in Daphne’s eyes.

How do I choose? Between the two loves of my life. My only real family. They’re both one and the same: my future, the other halves of my heart. I look at Baz, who seems like he’s already accepted his fate. He keeps looking at me and then towards the doors leading to the patio- he wants me to take Neiva and run.

I feel like I’m overheating… No. I feel like the wind is back in my chest, pushing the rain outwards, outwards, until it bursts forth into the room with such force I can almost smell it.

Malcolm can’t take either of them, he can’t.

I feel a slight increase in pressure from my spine, and a coinciding sizzle tells me that the spell on my wings and tail have just ended. Malcolm looks a bit frightened, anyone would, staring at a half human half dragon hybrid whose family was just threatened.

“Put it out,” I growl, nodding at the flame. One of my wings comes round my shoulder and extends the length of my arm, the one I’m holding Neiva in. The other wing stretches out completely, meaning to look as menacing as possible.

“Give me the girl!”

**BAZ**

I can’t fucking believe it. All this time, and my dad still thinks I’m a walking plague. (I mean, I guess I am, but I was just starting to come to terms with it. Fuck it _all._ ) And now he’s threatening Simon, making him choose between me and Neiva.

It isn’t fair. But I’m clinging to the hope that he’ll do the right thing and pick Neiva. I’m pleading for it silently- and I think he knows, too- because I don’t dare speak. I can feel my father’s fire through my clothes. It’s close.

Right as I’m thinking I really am doomed this time, the spell on Simon’s wings and ended. Which- that shouldn’t happen. No one said anything _to_ end it, and anyway, only Penny and I know how. But they’re there now, out in the open, moving to protect our little girl.

And then, something else happens.

Something I haven’t seen in four years, and never thought I’d see again.

The Sword of Mages appears in Simon’s hand at my father’s- no, fuck that, fuck him- Malcolm’s latest demand, and he didn’t even say anything to summon it.

Everyone in the room notices. It’s hard not too; this looks like the final fight was supposed to look like. Except for the fact that Simon and I are engaged and he’s holding our daughter.

And there’s that smell too, like the pavement after it’s just rained, exactly the same as when he argued with Penny.

Malcolm’s wand dips dramatically and that’s all I need to punch him in the face as hard as I can. I feel a bit guilty, because as he hits the floor I realize that I put all my vampire strength into it, but then I’m reminded that he just tried to kill me _and_ my daughter, so I don’t feel bad at all. Actually, it felt good.

I turn back to Simon who’s staring at the sword in his hand like he’s never seen it before. I watch as his tail and wings retract into his back, seemingly of their own accord.

Walking towards him, I say, “Alright, Simon?”

I startled him. He looks up at me stammering, and jumps when his phone rings. The blade disappears into his hip, and I take Neiva into my arms.

“Penny?” Simon answers. “What’s going on?” he asks, as if she were here with us right now.

My hearing’s good enough to where I can listen in on the conversation while I watch Daphne kneel on the floor, attempting to heal Malcolm’s bloodied and probably crushed face. I hope it hurts.

“Simon, the magic’s back in Kensington and Hounslow! Dad’s just told me!”

“Penny, that’s fantastic,” he says, monotone and exhausted. “Let me know if there’s any other news. I’m- I’m busy right now.”

He hangs up without waiting for a reply. I can imagine that Bunce will be furious at him for this later.

He looks at me. “Fancy a road trip to Hampshire?”

I clutch at Neiva. “Sure,” I glance back to see my dad sitting up with Daphne’s assistance. “Anywhere but here. Can you… can you take Neiva?”

He nods, but asks, “What are you…?”

“Something I should have done years ago.”

I walk over and kneel next to Daphne, looking down at Malcolm. His face is misshapen (he’ll probably have to go see Dr. Wellbelove) and is in obvious pain, but he still manages to sneer at me. “What would your mother think, Basilton?” he spits, all rage. “She wouldn’t have let you live! And now you’ve gone and Turned an innocent? You disgust me. I should’ve done what your mother would have wanted me to do.”

“Malcolm!” Daphne gasps. Behind me, Simon growls.

“It’s alright,” I say. Because it really is, now. I think.

He looks like he might continue with something even more nasty, but I stop him by saying, “She came back for me, you know.”

Whatever hateful pile of shit was just about to exit his mouth dies in his throat. I watch him swallow it. “What?”

“When the Veil lifted. Mother came back for me. To talk with me.”

“Liar,” he says through clenched teeth, “‘You were in a coffin.”

I won’t wince. “She found Simon instead, obviously,” I continue, raising my voice. “She wanted me to find Nicodemus, then to find her killer. Which we did,” Malcolm looks horrified, both at the mention of Nicodemus and my mother’s killer. I had forgotten that everyone continued assuming it was the Humdrum. “It was the Mage, he really was terrible all that time. But when she was there, she kissed Simon’s forehead, telling him it was for me.”

Malcolm is silent.

“You didn’t hear her voice,” Simon chimes in from behind me. “She misses him so much. She kept shouting, ‘my son, my only son,’ only she was fading, so it came out as a whisper.” He shudders. “It was… very powerful.”

I stand up and make a show of dusting off my clothes. Malcolm seems to have been rendered speechless of my confession. I want him to mull it over for the rest of his life if that’s how long it takes him to realize she only would have come back to me if she loved me. If she _still_ loved me, regardless of who, or what, I was and still am and will always be. It sure as fuck took me long enough.

I drive us to Hampshire. I think Simon is still in shock from the small amount of magic he just used, accidentally. Leave it to Snow to accidentally use magic, first of all, and second of all, I really hope he’ll be able to call back his dragon appendages sometimes. I rather liked them.

He’s staring directly out the window when he calls my name, questioning.

“Yes love?”

“If he tries that again, I’m going to kill him.”

I glance into the rearview mirror. There's fire in his eyes- no, something beyond fire, _magic_ \- and I can feel it even though he’s still looking out the windows as the trees fly past us.

He’s serious. I don’t have to question it.

“Okay,” I say, and Simon nods. He and Neiva both sleep the entire way to Hampshire.

When we get there, it’s all too obvious it’s still a dead spot. I wince as soon as we hit the outer perimeter, both Neiva and Simon wake up, and Neiva starts to cry. He tries to shush her, but she won’t be consoled. Not even the motion of the car is helping this time.

Once we’re properly in the driveway of the house, I unbuckle Neiva from her car seat as Simon steps out and stares at the ground with a contemplating frown on his face. Neiva stops screaming once she’s in my arms, but it’s obvious she can feel the dead spot too; she’s squirming around so much I’m almost afraid I’ll drop her.

I won’t drop her. Not ever. Not on my life.

“Simon,” I say, squinting at him, “What do you need?”

“To be… centered,” he answers, but I don’t think we’re in the same plane of existence. He looks like he’s gone into some sort of transcendental state.

“There’s a stone circle here, isn’t there? Out in the grounds behind your home.”

How could he have possibly known that, “Y-yes,” I tell him.

He nods like he knew it all along, and begins to walk towards the gate that will lead him out back. I don’t ask questions, I just follow.

The hollow feeling worsens the closer we get to the stone circle (Snow somehow leading the way, as if _he_ were the one who lived here for eighteen years) and then I feel a tug, a sharp pull as I feel everything inside of me give way. It’s like when the Humdrum pushed his nothing into me all those years ago. “Simon,” I choke out, pitching forward. Neiva starts crying again. “We can’t go any further. There’s just- nothing here, so much nothing.” I’m panicking, I know it. But I can feel my fangs drop, and that same desire for Simon’s blood and for magic he doesn’t have returns.

He turns around with a worried look. “We’re not far from where we need to be,” he says, pleading.

I look at him dead in the eye. I know I must look frightening, with dark pupils attempting to take over every corner of my eyes. But I feel so fucking weak, too, and when I take another step forward I fall.

Simon, ever the hero, catches us both. He pulls Neiva close to him while I crawl away.

“You _cannot_ get that close to me when I am like this,” I growl, not looking at him. I hope my tone of voice conveys that it is not up for debate.

I feel something leathery wind it’s way up my bicep- it’s Simon’s tail, helping me up. He’s already standing, holding Neiva who is screaming in his arms. “It’s not that far from here,” he’s pleading at me with his eyes, which works when I’m human, but I can barely feel it now. “ ** _Please_**.” I don’t know if it’s emotion or if it’s magic. I follow him at distance.

When we’ve finally arrived, it’s not soon enough. I immediately collapse in the center, too tired to go on. The emptiness seems to have taken it’s toll on Simon and Neiva as well; she’s even stopped crying out of exhaustion. He joins me in the grass, and we lay on our backs, one of our fingers each being clutched tightly by Neiva’s small hands.

I’m panting with the effort it takes not to suck Simon Snow dry.

He’s laying on his back, facing up, with stars in his eyes.

The wind picks up, rustling the trees overhead, and Simon closes his eyes- and that’s when I feel it.

It’s a cool, calming mist, spreading all around the stone circle, apparently coming from Simon’s chest. I feel it expand, and then I feel it _in_ me- I could cast a sonnet. I could cast **_Twinkle twinkle little star_ **. Like a completed circuit, again at all at once, my magic returns, flowing through my body and down my arms. I can feel it seeping into Neiva, but she’s not crying, she’s gurgling, and a glance at Snow tells me everything. It’s happening on his end, too.

It starts to rain. And just like that, the magic comes back to Hampshire.

 

**SIMON**

 

I can’t bring myself to move from the circle. I do, however, sit up, and pull Neiva into my lap. She grabs at my fingers and grips them tight, giving Baz and I the most charming, toothless smile. I kiss her forehead as Baz sits up too, crossing his legs so that our knees touch.

“Alright Snow?” He asks, beaming at me. I think he’s intoxicated on my-  my _magic_. Merlin.

“I’m grand, but what about you? How are you feeling after-”

He cuts me off with a hand. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “It was worth it, for this. Anything would be.” He glances at Neiva, who giggles. “How does it feel?” Baz whispers with a small smile.

“It feels like a wind tunnel,” I explain, “And every time I need to use magic, it pushes the mist inside me to the surface. Like fog seeping through my pores.”

Baz smirks. “Our magic must be compatible,” he says. “My burn to your cool.” He holds out his hand.

I take it. Instantly, I know he’s right- I feel like I’m in a state of equilibrium. Like there’s a light in my chest.

Baz has stars in his eyes when he whispers my name again. He must feel it, too.

Neiva let’s go of my hand and slumps forward a bit, catching herself before she falls too far forward. With her arms outstretched, she reaches for Baz.

“Papa?”

We both stop moving. I think my heart drops to the floor.

“Papa,” she’s still reaching towards Baz.

“That’s right, I’m right here, little puff,” He picks her up by the waist. “Right here. Papa’s-” he chokes a bit on the word. I think he’s- crying? “-here, baby.”

Neiva, unaware of the emotional moment, giggles and twists in his hands so that she’s facing me. “Dadda,” she gurgles, hands making grabbing motions towards me.

I take her delicately from Baz- he’s still so shocked. I am, too. Neiva continues to babble nonsense at me. “Yes sweetheart,” I say, “Tell Dadda all about it.”

She giggles again, twisting. “Papa!” She shouts. Baz smiles at her widely. “Dadda! Papa!”

“She’s so young!” I say to Baz excitedly, over the noise.

“Children with magic begin speaking at an early age,” Baz tells me. There are tears on his cheeks. Careful to balance Neiva  on my lap, I reach for him, cupping my hand around his jaw. His eyes flutter closed as I swipe away one tear, then bring him near me to kiss away the rest.

“Do you think she has magic, then?”

“Didn’t you feel it? When we were laying down?”

“Yeah,” I say, smiling at the wonder in my lap.

“It’s funny,” Baz murmurs, also looking at Neiva, “She kind of looks like us.”

“It’s fantastic,” I correct.

“It’s perfect,” he agrees.

Nothing can get better than this: me and Baz and Neiva sitting in this circle filled with love and magic, wildflowers poking out of the ground everywhere.

 

I was wrong, of course.

The only thing more perfect could only be our wedding, five years after I saved Baz and one year after Baz saved Neiva.

I walk down the aisle behind her, and she quietly waddles in her eight hundred pound dress laden with expensive lace and crystals (Baz is going to spoil her rotten, I swear) leaving flowers in her wake. She’s not holding any; this is just something she does. Neiva grew flowers in the circle of rocks that day, and now she grows them whenever she walks in grass. It’s weird, it’s magic, and Baz and I love it.

Our guests love it, too. They coo at her as she walks by, and she giggles as she makes her way up to Baz.

Who looks fucking beautiful in his dark blue suit and grey tie. He knows it too; when he catches me staring, he smirks. But I know he couldn’t take his eyes off of me my entire way down the aisle. It’s the grey suit- Baz insisted. And the navy blue tie, I’m sure, brings out my eyes.

Neiva makes it to Baz, who picks her up in a sweeping motion and kisses her forhead so much that she laughs openly. I stand across from him, and when she reaches for me I do the same. Finally, I turn completely and hand her to her godmother. Penny whispers to her about how great she did.

As the wedding officiant- Miss Possibelf herself- told everyone that they could sit, I glance towards them all:

Malcolm’s in the audience today, after several anger management and other such therapy sessions, sitting with Daphne and Baz’s younger siblings. The entire Bunce family sits on the side opposite them, as do the Wellbeloves. Behind Baz’s family is the entire Watford staff, who upon hearing about Mitali’s invitation, had to see for themselves that the two people least likely to get along in their years of schooling were actually marrying each other. Their demanding for invitations made Baz laugh out loud. Various other Watford alumni are scattered here and there; Trixie and Keris are somewhere in the crowd, both wearing matching flower crowns.

Penny, Mordelia, and Agatha all look stunning in their silver bridesmaid dresses. Niall, Dev, Rhys, and Gareth all look like they’re about to break open a crime plot in their sharp black suits.

My attention is snapped away when I realize it’s time for the bonding ceremony. Baz gives me a reassuring smile as he put both hands palm up in front of him, and whispers a spell to summon flames without a wand. They flicker and dance just above his hands.

This would be really dangerous (I can almost feel Malcolm wincing in his seat) if I didn’t play my part. I take a deep breath, summoning the deep wind inside me and feel a cloudy mist gather at my shoulders, then run like water down to my fingertips. Palms down, I place my hands on his.

It works. I feel a heavy light in my breastbone, and I know Baz can feel it too because I see it in his eyes.

In a typical Simon Snow manner (this is the last time I can think that, which is exciting. I’ll be _Pitch_ pretty soon) I don’t really pay attention to the rest of the ceremony. I’m distantly aware of what Miss Possibelf is saying, and I can hear myself responding, but all my focus is on the light I can feel pouring out of me.

I’m shocked back into reality when Baz drops my hands, ending the circuit of shared magic, and pulls me to him by the back of my neck. And then we’re kissing, and without thinking, both of my hands move up to his head, one to cup his face and the other sliding into his hair. His free hand wraps around my back, and I’m lost, gone forever and drowning in this kiss.

Too soon, Baz let’s go. But it's for a good cause; Neiva is suddenly in his arms, and we’re both covering her in kisses as she says, “Love you Papa! Love you Daddy!” over and over again.

All the bad things that happened to us in school, the day I stopped Baz’s fire, learning how to love, finding Neiva, regaining my magic, and the constant struggle of parenthood and figuring out how to deal with it all, knowing that the future will just be all the more challenging...

I don’t regret any of it. Not for a second.

Baz and I walk back down the aisle arm in arm, with Neiva on his hip.

This is it. This is my happy ending.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to leave Kudos if you liked my story! Comments are always welcome, you guys have been so nice to me in the past. =)  
> Oh, and let me know if you'd like to see an epilogue... I know I would... ;D


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